I don't have to answer "I'm fine, how are you?"

I have no idea what to write about. But here I am, as E used to say when we were helping motivate each other to finish our dissertations, using 45 min. work sessions and a Zen bell application: writing leads to motivation, not the other way around.

It is the 8-10am morning shift, Baby A is bouncing to dreamland in her hammock. She's 4 months old, and honestly, not much has changed with her pains and cries and discomfort. She continues to gain weight and is developing quickly (M got her first laugh out of her a few days ago!), which according to the pediatrician means she's healthy. Great, never mind the gas pains, problems pooping, reflux sounds, trouble getting to sleep and inability to stay asleep more than 1 or 2 hours at a time, and having to breastfeed her in her sleep.

There are many times when I've been maintaining weight and developmental stage and don't feel healthy. Back pain - that's a big one.

Anyway, the doctor is actually great, and at the last visit, after the reflux medication didn't do anything, she sent a prescription for us (me and the pistachio) to go to the Children's Hospital sleep lab for a multi-day evaluation. We're just waiting to hear about that appointment. There are sleep specialists there, GI specialists, and who knows what other specialists. Maybe finally we can treat A as a whole being rather than as a skeletal/muscle system (osteopath), a feeder (lactation consultant), a weight and height (pediatrician).

All around this 12 lb. whirling dervish, life goes on. Heartless bastard. People sleep, work, play, eat. Spring has come with its gorgeous sunlight and crocuses. Other babies A's age are sleeping even longer at night. Their parents go out, to restaurants or bars, or take them to foreign countries. The go back to work part time or full time. And it feels like I've (we've) gotten left behind somehow.

Yes, I know, every baby is different. And I consider myself pretty good at being happy with others at their accomplishments and good fortunes. But it is hard to see another 4 month old just fall asleep in her mother's (or anyone's) lap and not feel a bit jealous. Of the extra time that represents, of what I imagine are looser shoulder muscles and greater ease of falling asleep of that mother. Of lungs that expand that last bit where mine feel like they stop at a tight chest, always ready to spring awake to comfort A. To bounce her, to hold her, to put her in the sling and go on another walk through the neighborhood.

I love her. In my own way. But I'm so tired. And I so very much wish I wasn't. That I had more stores of energy especially for when she is having the hardest time. That I didn't wish she would "just stop it!" as if she does any of this on purpose. I get angry at her. At her body. At this state we seem to be frozen in.

And all that "oh but when she smiles, you remember what it is all about" stuff? You know what, sometimes, when she smiles in the middle of a screaming session, I don't remember. I don't soften up inside. I'm still upset. And that makes me sad. I feel like she could have gotten a better mom. One of those who can melt every time they see a smile. Who can get 1 or 2 hours of sleep all night long and be loving and calm when the baby wakes up for the 6th time, after only 30 minutes this time, screaming.

But I'm not those mothers. I'm me. I do my best, and it feels far short of good. But it is all I've got at this point.

So in the middle of the happiness of her new laughing or cooing, or grabbing or rolling over, there are these sad little pockets of time. When I can't even muster a "this too shall pass" anymore. Shall pass was 3 months, 4 at the most.

"This too shall pass" has passed. Bow to your sensei, I guess.

Dopplegangers in the bakery

We met our dopplegangers yesterday, at a really nice bakery restaurant.

We try to get out every weekend, with baby A in the sling, just to have some fun time. We don't go far, usually the restaurant up the hill from our house. This time it was a 15 min. bus ride to a close-ish part of town. The sushi place there was closed (another lesson learned), so we went for the bakery I've bought goods at before. Great food, just haven't eaten a meal there before.

We sat down at the one free table in the front room. Well positioned with access to getting up and around for baby bouncing purposes. Even next to a couple with their own baby in a sling on dad's chest. We smiled at them ("hey, we both have babies in slings and we're out at a restaurant" smile and nod). I asked the one thing I know in German about babies - "how old?"

"Three months"

"Her, too." I said.

Then they asked something and I had to switch to English. M came back from hanging our coats up and we started chatting. Postdoc in science and her husband, Swiss, just moved back from my home town. Had a similar birth experience. And we wound up chatting, with a break for us to order some killer cordon bleu...like, the real stuff, fried. YU-um. We spent about 2 hours there, talking about how similar it was to be from another country, having a baby in a foreign land. Apparently the "foreign land" part explains a lot more than things being specific to Switzerland or the US. Even down to those annoying people who don't seem to understand that when you tell them you don't speak English/German very well, they shouldn't just repeat the same sentence, complex terms and all, same speed. They don't even slow down and increase the volume anymore, apparently. Ha ha.

It was really nice.

Also a reminder that baby A is way more alert and fidgety than a normal 3 month old. But still really nice to meet people. We exchanged emails, and made a new couple of friends, just like that, out of the blue. Just because we decided to get bundled up, pack all our myriad things for a trip out in the cold and snow, and trudge out there on a Saturday afternoon. Lovely.

I even got the courage to try breastfeeding the little wiggler when the other woman fed her baby. Of course, things went much more, um, vigorously and less quietly with baby A, but that's her way. And she did feed a significant amount. My first time in a public place with her. Score one more on the slightly increased freedoms list.

It was a good day.

The evening involved watching parts of a kind of disappointing Olympic closing ceremony, but hey, you can't ask for more than one really nice thing to happen to you each day to be happy. And we had already had ours.

Up yours, acid reflux.

Newest development, is that baby A is on acid reflux medication. Because I asked the doctor to try it. Sure, she's sensitive and has a hard time settling on her own, but when we take all these "high needs baby" things into account, we're still left with a baby who has a hard time breastfeeding and sometimes bottle feeding (pulls off a lot, lots of burping, arches her back, cries, wants to eat constantly) and doesn't sleep more than one hour at a time (EVER) without our intervention - my holding her on my lap in my arms, or having her bouncing in the baby hammock.

These behaviors and her wheezing right after eating seem to point to silent reflux. Oooh, nasty nasty thing that has no spitting up to help diagnose it and just gets chalked up to "she'll grow out of it."

And as usual, I've learned something about myself with this all. At first, when a friend suggested I look into silent reflux, I went online, saw all these symptoms exactly like A's, and with almost every post was the warning "doctors won't believe you", "we went through three pediatricians before one sent us to a GI specialist who immediately saw a silent reflux baby in her behavior," etc. Great. Even a pharmacist here said that doctors here don't always believe babies have reflux so don't send you to a specialist. And, in fact, one doctor I spoke to while ours was out of town gave that exact solution....no, it is gas, have you tried Flatulex? (yes, didn't work) Give her fennel tea (ditto), wheezing is a respiratory infection (no, I said it is just after eating, don't you listen?).

Anyway, I found myself heading to the pharmacy to ask for somthing like Mylanta, something over the counter we could try to see if things improved to help me make my case. Fair enough, others on the forums had suggested this.

But at the pharmacy I also found myself explaining myself in detail to an assistant pharmacist. To try to get her to believe my theory. When I was asking for over the counter medicine. See something kind of off with this picture?

I'd been doing this kind of super-explaining to everyone. The litany of baby A's problems. In hopes they would not think I was a pushy mom and realize this is just what I have to do to try and figure out why she's still screaming sometimes, not eating calmly (albeit gaining weight....which means she doesn't raise any red flags for the doctor!), sleeping poorly. And why we can't come to your place for dinner (I go to sleep at 7pm to try to get in 3 hours of sleep while M watches her), or come to your party on the weekend (she has trouble feeding calmly in new settings and I need to be able to keep my attention on her, and if the trip is longer than 30 min....).

See, there I go again. Doing it to you, now.

Really, it doesn't matter. You don't need to know all my experiences with the little buddha. She'll probably coo and smile while you're around, and that is wonderful. She has some really good times. And the bad times, well, I'm in charge of helping her through them, and I don't need to apologize for all I will try. Or explain.

And yes (sigh), I'm a pushy mom. This baby needs a pushy mom. So that goodness I'm willing to become one. And I am willing. Finally.

There, I've said it, I'm a pushy, 10-theories, here's a printout of a new study, have you thought of this medication mama. And if it helps her cry less or sleep more, then it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks.

It takes another 4-5 days for us to know if acid reflux is part of the problem. Fingers crossed. It doesn't have to solve it all, but a bit of improvement would be golden. Go mess with someone else, reflux.